


Father Goose

by rthstewart



Series: Golden Age Stories [7]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: 1940s, Golden Age (Narnia), Multi, Narnian Subcultures, Spare Oom, Talking Animals, Thomas the bisexual polyamorous Goose, rthverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-20 09:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16134371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart
Summary: The Doctor will see you now.Part of the overall Stone Gryphon universe, though most is set in Golden Age.





	1. Lambert, Susan, Lucy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Syrena_of_the_lake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/gifts), [OWorthyFool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OWorthyFool/gifts).



> Please note trigger warning in chapter 2. That chapter addresses the aftermath of the off-screen suicide of a non-canon character. Chapter 2 is a standalone and may be skipped completely. Just jump to Chapter 3 and proceed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is a very wise Goose.

Thomas the Goose was a role model of a supportive partner and loving parent in a polyamorous, bisexual relationship. He died in February 2018 and you can read about his remarkable life [here](https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-43054363). 

A very special thanks to oworthyfool who gave me the idea for Fooh's dilemma in Chapter 3.

Year 1

(set during _I love not man the less and nature more,_ before Peter's Revel and Susan's Walk With Goddesses ritual)

Susan had not thought of herself as a matchmaker. But really wasn't it obvious? Lambert had seemed as adorably smitten as any puppy. The Wolf had sidled up to that lovely she-Wolf for the whole of their return from her Great Riddling with Xucoatl, the powerfully magical Fire Salamander.

 _Susan Hornblower_ Xucoatl had called her. _Who is Gentle but not Gentled_. _You will come eventually, though it will be by the longer road._

 _Come where?_ She wasn't sure she liked the idea of that longer road.

The sounds of claws on Palace floors roused her from her reverie.

"Queen Susan?" Lambert said. "You summoned me?"

"Yes, Lambert, thank you." She gestured for him to join her at the window seat in the Council Room.

Susan tried looking at him, but Lambert turned his head to the side. She'd noticed this with other Beasts - they didn't want to look her in the eye and it was a little unsettling.

"First, thank you, again for your assistance to me on the deer hunt. And I appreciate also your support on my journey for the Riddling."

"You are welcome, of course, but it was my honor to do so, your Majesty."

Lambert was so well-spoken and had a beautiful voice.

"Given what you and the High King are doing for all of Narnia in these trials, it is the least I could do."

His tail started wagging, great swishes back and forth, and Susan was deeply touched. The Narnians' happiness with her and Peter's commitment to undertaking the challenges of the Great Bonding buoyed her. But their subjects' total, enthusiastic support did not lessen her  apprehension. She was dreading the next two. She didn't want to walk naked and barefoot with her monthly through the orchards and fields with the Goddesses. From the pictures in the _Regalia_ , she knew what was in store for Peter at the Revel. She had done her best to be supportive of him and he wanted to undertake the ritual. Her mind balked at it, with a tinge of revulsion.

The wagging slowed. "Your Majesty, are you…"

Lambert stiffened and his lip curled over a tooth. He looked around, inhaling deeply. "You seem fearful. Is there a threat?"

 _Oh this would not do at all._ Susan took a deep breath and pushed her misgivings aside. She did not know a Wolf could be sensitive to her mood.

"I am well, Lambert. Do not concern yourself. But I did wish to raise something with you."

She leaned forward.

"Your Majesty?"

"Tell me about that she-Wolf who accompanied us to the Riddling. She seemed very kind and handsome."

The regal young Wolf wilted before her eyes. "Briony. Her name is Briony."

So she had guessed correctly. "And?"

"I thought the feeling was mutual? Now…"

He sounded so very uncertain and lost Susan wanted to put her hand out to touch the Wolf's head but was worried it would seem like a pet rather than a consoling touch. "She does not seem interested in you?"

"I have asked her to play but she says she's too busy with the Army."

Susan was glad she was able to keep a straight face especially because the Wolf seemed so downcast. _Play._ Lambert was not a dog. But he was not a human, either.

"Respecting her wishes is important, certainly, but she did not seem so reluctant before? Has something happened? Did you do something that caused her concern?"

"I don't know," Lambert replied miserably. "I thought I should discuss this with Thomas."

"Thomas?"

"A Goose, who lives with the other Water Fowl at the pond outside the Palace walls. He is reputed to be very wise."

"I have not met him. Might we go together?"

* * *

The Water Fowl pond was noisy and Susan had to pick her way very carefully in the grass and marsh around it. This early in the spring, most of the Birds were, it seemed, still brooding over their nests. Though a few were highly suspicious of Lambert, most overcame their fear to waddle forward and greet her with dips and bows. They were so pleased, Susan made note that she and her siblings must visit more frequently, the uncertain and messy footing notwithstanding.

She did feel badly ignorant, though, for it seemed that _everyone_ knew Thomas. There were not a few knowing nods when they asked where he might be.

"Oh yes, Thomas," said one Duck. "Whatever the muddle, he'll straighten it right out."

"Go round the other side," a black Swan said. Sounding a little grumpy, she added, "Just look for the best nesting site on the pond."

So many male Birds expressed variations of "Good luck, mate," to Lambert, his hair started rising on his back.

The reason for all the well-wishes was explained when a Coot squawked as one who had solved a great mystery, "Oh, surely this is about that she-Wolf who was here yesterday!"

Lambert turned around with a growl. "I've had enough."

"Oh no! Lambert, we must persist!  We've come this far!"

Susan picked up her skirts and herded Lambert up a little knoll. The famous Thomas was a fine white Gander with a few black smudges on his wings. She was surprised that he was sitting on a very large nest – Susan had assumed only the females did that. Was this something male and female shared, or was it just something Thomas did?

"Good morning, Thomas. I am Queen Susan and I have not had the pleasure of meeting you before."

Thomas bobbed his neck but did not rise. "An honor and pleasure, my Queen. I can't get up at the moment. I'll pay my respects when Henry and Henrietta return."

She wondered who Henry was and how this related to Henrietta and Thomas' nest.  "Of course, Thomas. You have a heavy responsibility now, I see. And so good of you to ease Henrietta's burden."

Thomas ruffled his feathers and eyed here a little askance, almost as if he was being critical of her. "She's my mate's mate, and raising Cygnets is a serious business."

Susan couldn't sort this. Thomas's mate's mate? And Cygnets were baby Swans, and Thomas was a _Goose_?

Thomas eyed Lambert with interest. "You're Lambert?"

"Yes," he replied stiffly. "I wanted your advice on Briony but other Fowl have said she came here yesterday."

Oddly, Thomas didn't confirm it, or deny it.

"Lambert, my first advice, always, is that you should try to discuss it with your partner first, before coming to me."

Thomas was a most unusual bird. This was not what she expected, at all. Susan took a few steps back, suddenly feeling like an interloper. This wasn't something about pets not getting along or anything remotely silly. This was a serious and personal matter between adults and she felt like a child listening in.

Lambert sat heavily and let out a sigh. "I _have_ tried. I thought we were courting. I am concerned I did something to offend her and I don't know what it is."

Thomas lifted himself slightly over the nest and snaked his beak down to check on the shining eggs. It might have been comical. To Susan, it appeared _very_ serious. Thomas was very conscientious.

"I'm not going to reveal confidences, Lambert, if there were any. But, let's see if you're as decent as I think you are."

Lambert cocked his head to the side. "If you received a confidence, it would not be right for you to tell me."

"Good answer. Next…"

Susan could see Thomas working through Lambert and Briony's predicament and weighing his words carefully.

"What did Briony say to you?"

"That she was too busy with the Army to play or court."

"What does that tell you?"

"That she doesn't like me well enough."

Thomas ruffled his feathers irritably. "This isn't always about you, Wolf. Try again."

Lambert knit his brows, thinking. Slowly, he said, "She takes her responsibilities very seriously. The Army _is_ important to her. She fought bravely at Beruna. She always volunteers for duties others try to avoid. Captain Roblang respects her and relies upon her greatly."

"And?"

Again there was a long pause. Slowly, Lambert said, with more confidence, "So maybe she is worried she can't bond with me and still do her duty to Narnia."

Thomas nodded his head in approval. It appeared comical but was so very wise. Susan had never heard such things that made _so much sense_ and made you think so hard about the other person.

"Something else, though, Lambert. We all love Narnia and want to do right by her. But why might Briony feel this duty especially? Why do you suppose she always works so hard to prove herself worthy?"

Lambert's ears pricked. She could see understanding dawning in his countenance. Susan inferred that Lambert and Thomas were speaking of a matter they both recognized, and that she did not.

_There's something else here._

"Briony has nothing to prove, to anyone." Lambert said with a growl. "She is brave and loyal."

"So why, Wolf, are you telling _me_ this?" Thomas stretched his neck and pecked Lambert on the ear. "Get out of here."

Lambert leapt to his feet. "Thank you, Thomas."

"I'd say anytime, but I hope I don't have occasion to see you _or_ Briony for a long time. You're a good Wolf, Lambert."

Lambert turned to her but Susan waved him off. "Go! You don't want me for this!"

The Wolf immediately loped away, in the direction of the Army barracks.

"You are remarkably gifted, Thomas. Thank you."

She wanted to ask about whatever it was that made Briony feel her duty so acutely but already knew that Thomas would refuse to answer. Still, she wasn't quite ready to leave his soothing, practical presence.

"May I sit with you a little?"

"Of course, Queen Susan."

She settled on a part of the grass that was dry and quite clean. She suspected this was Thomas's personal management of Henrietta's (and Henry's?) nest. He stretched a wing and rested it again upon his back. Thomas was a very large Goose.

"Are you troubled?"

His question startled her. "Why do you ask?"

"Most only come to me when they have troubles. Well, certain troubles, anyway. I'm no good, obviously, at fighting or sickness, or whatever else bothers Narnians."

"What troubles do you help Narnians with?"

"Isn't that also obvious?" He went on and answered his own question. "Personal troubles. Troubles with courting, with mates and mating, with being a better parent."

She combed her fingers through the prickly grass. "I have never heard of anything like that before."

"No? So your mates were always helpful and agreeable and you shared complete understanding?"

She laughed. "No, no mates. I'm much too young for that." She noted that again he'd used the plural, _your mates_ , and wondered at it.

"But you have no one you could go to if your need arose?"

It was getting harder to remember the details but Susan knew one who had always been there for her. "My mother."

"Who is no longer here for you?"

She shook her head and wondered why she did not feel greater sadness. "No."

"Though you do have your royal brothers and sister now."

"Yes." She rubbed the blades of grass between her fingers. Thomas was so very perceptive. She wondered if she should leave.

"Yet you have personal troubles now, and no one to share them with?"

Tears suddenly pricked at her eyes. Susan angrily brushed them away and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve. She shouldn't unburden herself to a subject. She also knew she couldn't share her burden with Peter, and Lucy and Edmund weren't ready for this.

He sat patiently. How did he know that if he had pressed her, she would get up and run back to the Palace and pretend nothing was wrong by the time she arrived?

Finally, she was able to whisper, "The Revel. It's part of the Great Bonding. You know it?"

"Yes," said Thomas, so very carefully. "It's for the Dryads, the Satyrs and Fauns. Quite rowdy." He paused and Susan heard his deeper understanding. "I understand the High King will do this ritual _._ "

She nodded. "Peter wants to do it. But it's…" She couldn't say it was wrong here. It plainly wasn't. "It's just _so different_ from anything we've ever done, or seen." _Experienced._ Susan shuddered. "There's nothing like it in the world we came from."

"Oh, I'd be careful saying that, Queen Susan. Unless you know your whole world, you don't know what it all contains."

She felt a little chastened. While, she certainly knew her (old?) world better than Thomas did, she could not in confidence say he was wrong, either.

"What troubles you about your brother undertaking the Revel?

"I'm afraid that the person who does …" she hesitated and pushed on. "Who does those things won't be my brother anymore."

"What things?" Thomas asked gently. "The dancing? The wine?"

She shook her head. "The…"

"Mating," he finished.

She nodded. "And with Dryads and…Satyrs and Fauns."

Susan wrung her handkerchief in her hands. Just, _finally_ , being able to say it to _someone_ had eased the leaden pressure in her chest.

Thomas lifted a wing to check on Henrietta's eggs then settled again.

"First, my Queen, your brother shall always be your brother. He's not the same as he was as a fledgling. Neither are you. We all grow up. Wanting to mate is often part of that change. It will occur in good time and regardless of the Revel."

"But for Peter to .. to.." She couldn't manage all of it and what did come out was in bits and pieces. "With Satyrs or Fauns. It's… it's very wrong where we are from."

"Why?"

"Because they are male."

"Wait. What?" Thomas looked and sounded very perplexed. "Because they are male they aren't supposed to mate?"

She nodded.

"You mean males mating with other males is wrong in Spare Oom?!"

"Of course."

"What do you mean, _of course_? Females too?"

She nodded again.

"Really!?"

"Yes."

Thomas persisted. "You're _sure_?"

"Yes!" She felt silly and was almost shouting. She didn't know a Goose could look so incredulous.

Thomas made a disapproving quack sound and ruffled his feathers indignantly. "By the Lion, I've never heard of such a thing! How very unnatural."

Amidst all her mortification, Susan laughed, enjoying being able to so mystify an otherwise very wise Goose. "Are you suggesting my world, my old world," she corrected herself, "is wrong about this?"

"Well, again, we can't really say anything about your whole, entire world. But, no matter. I'm not just suggesting the world you're from is wrong. It _obviously is_ unless your world contains something other than living beings."

She laughed again. His absolute, confident certainty somehow made her feel better.

"Also, obviously, your brother is not there, he's here, and thank Aslan for that." Thomas was still sputtering. "And he is the High King. He wishes it. Narnians wish it."

She let out a heavy sigh. "So my…" It wasn't a wish. "So my _misgivings_ don't matter?"

"Queen Susan, do you truly believe they _should_ matter when they are strange to us, don't make sense to us, and the High King chooses not to follow them?"

Thomas didn't seem to expect her to respond. In a voice that was so kind, she almost started weeping, he continued, "You love your brother and that's surely strong enough to respect his choices. And Revel or no, the changes you fret over now will surely come anyway, eventually."

At that moment, a Black Swan waddled gracelessly up the knoll. "Queen Susan! This is an honour!" From her voice, this was Henrietta.

"The pleasure is mine, Henrietta."

"Are you done, or should I come back? It's my turn on the nest, you see."

_Were they done?_

Thomas was looking at her steadily. Yes, change would come regardless. And she was grateful that Peter wanted to do the Revel and was stepping up to it. Susan allowed herself a smug and blushingly bawdy giggle. Peter was sparing her the Revel but she was saving him from the male equivalent of what she'd be doing in the next Challenge, which involved gadding about, naked, through the Orchards with her monthly. From the pictures in the _Regalia_ , and after all the mating in the last few weeks going on around them, she had a pretty good idea of what the text had meant about blessing Narnia with seed, blood, and water.

"We are indeed concluded, Henrietta. Thank you for your forbearance."

Thomas carefully lifted himself off the precious nest; Henrietta examined each egg carefully and then took his place. "Henry's waiting for you, Thomas. He's found some of that nice salty grass you like." She pointed her beak and long neck in the direction of the pond. "Enjoy yourselves! I've got this!"

Thomas stretched his enormous wings, flapped them in a tremendous gust, and then neatly flipped them back into place. They walked together slowly down the knoll toward the pond. Thomas didn't walk very fast but Susan had to pick up her skirts and step equally carefully.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. As I said, Briony and Lambert probably won't be having the sorts of personal troubles I can help with. But that might not be true for you, or for your brothers and sister. Come any time. With the three of us here, I'm always available."

She watched as he launched into the pond and paddled eagerly toward a handsome Black Swan. It wasn't surprising when she saw them bob their heads affectionately and nibble at one another. Tears pricked at her eyes again. To be regarded as Thomas and Henry so obviously regarded each other _would be_ lovely.

The White Goose and Black Swan tenderly and gracefully twined their necks and, side by side, drifted across the pond.

* * *

 

Year 6

Lucy raced Briony from the Palace to the Water Fowl pond. Briony won, of course, and together they scattered not a few of the Birds. They both endured a furious tongue lashing from an elderly Shelduck who, according to her vigorous swearing, they had frightened nearly to death.

"He's over here!" Briony called and loped around the edge of the pond.

By the time Lucy charged, slipping and sliding, up the knoll, the Cygnets had scattered and flapped into the pond, with Henrietta swimming after to round them up. Or was that Henry? It was impossible to tell the difference between the Black Swans.

Thomas was now scolding Briony for the disruption. "I was teaching them their letters!" he honked.

"I am sorry, Thomas!" Lucy called. "This was my fault! I just could not wait to see you!"

Now that she was closer, she could see that it was Henry who had remained behind. He was grooming Thomas's back and making soothing noises. "It's Queen Lucy, dearest. Teaching can wait for another day."

"Until they grow up and fly away," Thomas grumped.

But he let himself be soothed into a better humour with Henry's cozening.

"Now, that you aren't as prickly as a Hedgehog, I'll just join Henrietta and you can have your talk."

"Thank you, Henry," Lucy said. "Do give my love to Henrietta. You three are raising a wonderful brood. I promise I shall return at the end of the month to hear your Cygnets recite their letters."

Henry waddled off to the pond and offered his back to two of the Cygnets clamouring for a ride.

Thomas settled in a pile of his favorite rushes, rearranging them carefully with his beak.

"I brought some corn. Would you like some?"

"Thank you, no."

Lucy dug her hands into her pockets and popped a few of the sweetened kernels into her mouth. Then she flopped down on the grass next to Thomas.

"Can you guess why I've come?"

"Given the season and your remark about being gone, I assume you've decided to attend the Woodend Festival this year."

Lucy nodded.

"You are happy?"

"Mostly?"

Thomas turned his head to the side. "You have doubts still?"

"Not the decision to attend, nor what I fully intend to do there. I want that. I'm finally at the point that I'm really looking forward to it." Thomas had scolded her over the past two years to not feel rushed and that she needn't attend just because everyone insisted she was missing out on an experience they all found _incredible_. And _so exciting_. _Life-changing._ Lucy sniffed. She liked her life _just fine._

She put a hand out to touch Briony's shoulder.

"And Briony is going with you," Thomas said. "I'm glad."

"I will be certain nothing untoward happens," Briony said confidently. "And I've told Sir Leszi that he must take his pleasures elsewhere this year."

"Very wise."

Lucy let out a heavy sigh and let her hands flop into her lap. "I _do_ feel self-conscious about it, Thomas. I've spurned so many suitors, they've stopped calling altogether. I just…" She shrugged. Trying to explain it always put her in a mood.

"Even if you weren't a Queen, you don't owe anyone an explanation."

"I know, but I am the subject of endless speculation and I know I've lagged behind the others. But _really_! After Edmund made such a to-do about it all, and such misery after, is it any wonder?"

She understood why Edmund had wanted to do things his own way and developing a profound and so very ill-timed seasonal allergy to pollinating Dryads had been, and continued to be, dreadful. But if he had not been so _very_ vocal at the prospect, he might not have been so humiliated at the outcome. As near as she could tell, it had been Thomas who had waded in and shoved Edmund off to Galma and into Lord Abnur's bed. Abnur had been wonderful, kind, and exactly the sort of affirmation Edmund had needed. Abnur and Edmund still saw each other several times a year.

And as for the others, Peter was no help. He continued to be ecstatically and completely Narnian about it all – as was Susan, in her own way. Susan was more cautious, for good reason and especially about human males, but had certainly found her bliss with the Dryads and in the women's quarters at Anvard.

Which was all fine _for them._ Lucy did not want anything public, or negative, or reactive. She detested the gossip about the state of her affairs and _maidenhood_. _Bride of Aslan_ , _indeed._ It was infuriating. It was ridiculous. It was enough for her to consider taking a dozen lovers in every court in the Known Lands, establishing her own gay harem in Narnia, and damn them all for the presumption. But that was ridiculous, too.

"You know, of course, that I've nothing to say about how your brothers and sister have taken, or not taken, mates. But you certainly don't owe anyone any explanation for why you've chosen Woodend and to go now."

"It's no one's business but yours, Lucy."

Briony had said this so often, Lucy almost believed it.

"To you alone, Thomas, I shall confide that I fully intend to lie with Bacchus himself, and will accept nothing less, and then all his maenads thereafter may join us. We shall then romp 'til we drop and if I have a shred of clothing left for the return, I've obviously not done this properly!" It wasn't all in jest.

"From you, Queen Lucy, I wouldn't expect anything less."

She laughed.

"Briony, dear, would you mind withdrawing a little and keeping others away. I'd like to speak to Thomas."

"Of course."

Lucy trusted Briony to not try to listen. Wolf hearing was so acute, she'd probably catch the gist, but this wasn't wholly Lucy's story to share.

She scooted closer to Thomas. "I do have a concern, Thomas. Mr. Tumnus was the one who first told me of the Woodend Festival. I know he always goes. But this year, since I go, he is not."

"Were you looking to share Woodend with your closest and first friend, in all of Narnia?"

"Oh!" She'd not that of it that way. "No." She shook her head. "It's not like that at all."

"I thought not. Tumnus is wise and surely wishes you to go without you feeling you must account to or for him. It's like Briony excluding Leszi. This is something to enjoy with your fellow revelers and their gods."

"Very old friends and swordmasters don't belong anywhere near my bower with Bacchus, do they?"

"No, my Queen, they do not."

 


	2. Tumnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is a very wise goose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter addresses the aftermath of the off-screen suicide of a non-canon character, the Faun, Mr. Noll. Chapter 2 is a standalone and may be skipped completely. Just jump to Chapter 3 and proceed.

Year 7

(set within a week after the events of The Palace Guard)

It was unquestionably the worst day since Jadis' first snow fell. Tumnus poured the hot water into the teapot, hoping he would remember this time to strain the tea before the whole thing cooled to sludge. He carelessly tossed the kettle landed back on the hob where it landed with an overloud clatter.

Queen Susan was still sitting with Hoberry on the ruined sofa. She wasn't saying anything, perhaps finally realizing there was nothing she could say that would help and a great deal that could be said that would make it all far worse. The High King sidled up to him and fiddled with the teapot. Tumnus almost snapped but managed a more polite, "I'll manage it, thank you."

The High King's eyes moved about the cottage, taking in the ripped pillows, the precious books pulled from the cases and spilled all over the floor, the ransacked cupboards and drawers. His gaze lingered on the splintered floorboard, shredded carpet, dirt and mortar, all ripped away to expose the secret cache beneath.

"We could help …"

"No," Tumnus said shortly. "I think it's better if you leave, your Majesty. Please."

He nodded and let out a deep breath. "Su? Let's give them some privacy?"

Queen Susan looked ready to argue but Tumnus shook his head. Her touch lingered for a moment on Hoberry's shoulder. "Please let us know what we can do to help."

_Nothing. Peace. Turn the clock back a ten-day so this doesn't unfold as it did._

Tumnus escorted them to the door and his irritation surged upon hearing the Guards on the other side scramble away. They knew there was no risk to their royal charges here in this trashed and shattered cottage. Dalia and Lambert had been eavesdropping. Since Dalia's Cubs had surely not learned any discretion at all, he hoped Dalia threatened them into silence. If not, he would happily cut their tongues out.

When he opened the door, Wolf and Cheetah were siting politely on the path, as if they had been there all day. _Liars._ The Cubs were gamboling about and he wanted to throw a ruined book at them.

"Not a word," he hissed at them. "Not a single word."

He was glad it wasn't Wrasse. He _would_ have thrown a book at the smug Panther. Summoned from her maternity to guard ( _and comfort_ , he thought sourly) the High King during this emergency, Dalia at least knew how to keep her mouth shut. Having to deal with the overly-protective, insecure Jalur, King Edmund's newly chosen guard, was another nightmare but at least the Tiger was no gossip.

Queen Susan left first. The High King towered in the doorway. "I… Mr. Hoberry, we are so very sorry." He hung awkwardly at the threshold, mouth agape then, _finally_ , ducked his head and left.

Tumnus slammed the door on the Monarchs, Guards and everything else. He knew he couldn't blame them for very long but it felt good to hold something to account.

He hurried back to the sofa and sat next to Hoberry. The Faun was still clutching the remains of the pillow that had been gutted with Leszi's long hunting knife during King Edmund's pillage of the cottage. The fluffy stuffing was scattered everywhere, like snow, with Crow feathers mixed in. Hoberry was staring at a book tossed onto the floor; the spine was broken, pages had been torn from it. _Language of Love,_ _Volume 2._

"I didn't know," Hoberry said.

Tumnus gently tugged the shredded pillow from Hoberry's desperate clutch and took his friend's hands in his own. "Of course you didn't."

"I begged him to tell me why. Pleaded. He just cried. I cursed him, Tumnus. And now…"

Now Noll was gone. He'd killed himself to avoid the reckoning for his treachery and providing any explanation to those who had loved him deeply and long.

"We were together for over 30 years. I loved him. How long was he lying? Using me? And now he's left me, alone, to deal with all _this_ and _no_ answers."

Hoberry kicked a precious book with his hoof and, jerking away, buried his head in his hands, squeezing his horns as if that pain would somehow lessen the despair.

"Tea," Tumnus said, wanting to kick a book himself. He was so angry. Angry at Noll for this base, venal evil of selling out Narnia for Calormene gold. He was angry at King Edmund, so driven to uncover his guard Merle's murderer that he had been wholly heedless of the swathe of destruction that followed in his wake. He was angry at Sallowpad who had ordered the Rats and Crows to raze so much that couldn't be rebuilt. Together, with Leszi, they had rampaged through Hoberry's home and life with no thought to the traumatized Faun and chased down the fleeing Noll and his spies with appalling vengeance. He was angry at Queen Lucy whose curiosity had started this without any regard for the consequences. And he was furious at Queen Susan and the High King for it was under their watch that Noll had been able to fashion a way to hang himself in his root cellar prison, denying them all an accounting, an explanation, _closure._

He was proud of himself that the tea had not yet turned to bitter mud. Hoberry would no more take it Royal – milk and sugar - than he himself would. A hundred years under Jadis' deprivations meant every one of their generation drank what had passed for tea – shredded bark – plain and hot with nothing added.

There was a knock on the door. Before he could bellow, "GO AWAY," he heard Thomas on the other side. "It's us."

"Come in!"

Mrs. Furner held the door and Thomas waddled in, awkwardly slipping on the books and debris. Roblang followed. Mrs. Furner and Roblang hurried around Thomas, helping clear a path for him to go straight to Hoberry.

Thomas rested his beak on Hoberry's leg. "Let's go to your bedroom."

Hoberry placed his hand on Thomas' white neck and nodded. His faint "Thank you," was more of a sob.

It was a bit of an effort to get Thomas there. Hoberry roused enough to be able help the enormous Goose squeeze down the hall and through the doorway.

The bedroom door shut.

"It's not a ruin in there, is it Tumnus?" Mrs. Furner asked.

"Nothing too bad, no, and I was able to straighten it up. They found what they were looking for in here."

She nodded, got down on her hands and knees and gently picked up a precious book, shaking off the feathers, pillow filler and dirt from too many feet and boots, and carefully wiping it with her apron. Tumnus righted the bookcase and reshelved the cleaned book.

"Leave aside any where the spines are broken," Roblang said gruffly. "I can rebind them."

Setting down his toolbox, Roblang knelt at the place where King Edmund and the Rats had prised up the floorboards.  It was Sallowpad who had spotted some irregularity in the flooring where the cache had been hidden; King Edmund had taken away the Calormene crescents that Noll had buried there.

After some time that might have been hours, Mrs. Furner wordlessly ceded the rest of the tidying up to him and settled on the sofa. She pulled out the sewing bag she wore around her neck, measured out a length of thread for her needle and began methodically repairing the sofa's bolsters, gleefully ripped apart by Leszi's knife. The gutted pillows that had been tossed to the floor Tumnus set next to the broken books, more repairs to be done later.

He was emptying the dustpan outside, just off the front walk, as Horace clomped up. They watched as four uncommonly quiet Squirrels scattered the dirt from the dustpan with their tails, so there wouldn't be an untidy pile, and collected the feathers and pillow filling. Before scurrying away, one, Tumnus thought it was Twigs, stood on his hind legs and put a paw on his own thigh. "Please tell Mr. Hoberry we're very sorry. Mr. Noll was always very kind to me."

"I will."

Once Twigs had scampered up a tree with a mouthful of pillow scraps, Horace blew out a snort and stomped a hoof. "If you want to get Hoberry away from here, if you can get him to go, I'll give you both a ride. Wherever you want. I can carry you both, or pull a cart, if you prefer."

Tumnus rested a dusty hand on the Horse's shoulder, feeling immense gratitude for these kindnesses, large and small.

"Thank you, Friend."

Horace walked slowly away; a Blue Jay settled on his back but he could not hear what they said.

As Tumnus turned back to go inside, he saw that the Narnians had been leaving, as was their way, small tokens in a makeshift altar along one of the cottage's outer walls. It was the usual mishmash – flowers, leaves, seeds, berries, a bit of honeycomb, feathers – not Crow, a bone, a candle stub, bits of bark with markings scratched into them, and some pieces of folded parchment. He found a large basket Noll would use to collect deadwood for their fires and carefully put each memento in it. He set the basket under an eave where it wouldn't get too damp if rained on, knowing that someone would implement some better way to cover and protect the offerings if he just left it alone. Narnians did very well when left to their own devices.

When he returned, Thomas had squeezed back into the now ordered sitting room and was drinking from a bowl Roblang was offering him.

"Sorry about the mess when you've just cleaned up," Thomas gurgled. Talking while drinking just made it worse, of course.

"Nonsense, Thomas!" Mrs. Furner said. "We'll just wipe up the water when you're done."

There would be feathers, too, but it was all to good effect.

"Mrs. Furner, he would like to speak with you," Thomas said. "Hoberry is very worried about the state of things at the Cair."

"But that's silly! He shouldn't..." Mrs. Furner shook her head. "Of course he's fretting about it." She set her mending aside, collected a cup of tea from the kitchen, and went back to the bedroom.

"Roblang, if you would go speak to the High King, no..." Thomas looked thoughtful. "Queen Susan. Please obtain her personal assurance that they do not blame him and will let him resume his duties when he is ready."

"Should I ask her to come and see him?"

"Not for a few days. He'll be very embarrassed later if he sees her now. Just tell him what she says. She's usually very good at saying the right things, but use your judgement."

"Perhaps she can write a note?" Tumnus suggested.

Thomas honked quietly. "Something I always forget you can do when you have hands. Thank you, Tumnus, that's an excellent idea."

"I'll go now." Roblang inspected the seamlessly repaired floorboard and collected his toolkit. "No one should walk on that for a day. Just let it harden."

As Roblang left, Tumnus quietly put the bowl of water in the basin and fetched a dry rag.

"You aren't going to ask me how he is?"

Tumnus snorted. "I know. There is no need to ask."

Thomas craned his neck about, admiring the pictures on the mantel that had not been smashed. They hadn't known what to do with the sketch that he had drawn for Hoberry and Noll of the two of them together during that first, ecstatic Woodend after Winter ended. Mrs. Furner had said that you often wanted to talk about and to those gone, especially at first. So Roblang had mended the twisted frame and they'd carefully set the sketch in its old place on the mantel.

"Something he will struggle with for some time is how you can be so angry at someone who has hurt you, but you can't stop loving them. Or…"

Tumnus looked at the Goose, knowing that "or" was really intended for him. "Yes?"

"Or how angry you can be when someone you love bitterly disappoints you."

He nodded, relieved in a way that Thomas recognized his feelings and wouldn't try to argue with him. "I'm going to be angry with them for a while yet. All Four of them." Even Lucy, and that did pain him, though not enough to cool his still very fresh anger.

"Hoberry might feel that too, eventually, for a little while."

"Possibly, but it won't endure long. He is much nicer than I am."

He knelt on the floor and began mopping up the damp and the few remaining feathers

"I don't know what else I feel," he admitted. "I loved Noll. We all did. Best, brightest, handsome, brilliant swordsman."

He sat back on his haunches. "And now we learn he was a traitor and a coward, when I've assumed I was the only one with that unique title. A final parting blow," Tumnus said with a bitter laugh. "Noll manage to strip me of the one thing I thought I'd unequivocally earned."

Thomas waddled over to where he sat and rested his head on Tumnus' shoulder. "You are a good Faun, a good Friend, and a good Narnian."

"But not a nice one."

Tumnus was surprised he didn't get a bite on the ear for that one.

Thomas sighed, a strange fluttering sound and downy white feathers swirled about. and Tumnus eased out from under the Goose weight and rose.

"You'll stay with him?" Thomas asked.

"Yes." Hoberry hung the damp towel on the drying rack with the other rags. "Or bring him to my home. Horace has offered to take us anywhere we like. Woodend is coming up, but I don't think that's right for either of us now."

"No. Try the southern slopes. This would be a good time of year to seek out Father Pan."

"All these years and you still surprise me, Thomas. How do you know Father Pan?"

Thomas used his beak to manipulate the knob and managed to get the door open. With his body, he pushed it wider so he get through it.

"I know everybody, Tumnus."

 


	3. Edmund, Fooh, Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is a very wise Goose.

Year 10

(Early in the first summer of the courtship of King Edmund (not father, brother, or Peter) and Evil Baker Morgan of the House of Linch).

Edmund's latest argument with Morgan about her damned census had concluded with no one happy. Morgan had implied – no, said outright – that his multiplication was both slow and inaccurate when everyone's numeracy was inferior to hers. He had told her it was ridiculous to assume that every Narnian would fit in her neat census squares and reproduce according to some ancient table she had unearthed from _Pliny's Animalia_ and an obscure monograph from their Porcupine Physician.

His shins hurt after she had knocked over a library chair that he then tripped over. His intellect was as bruised as his knees and his imagination wouldn't stop whigning about the make-up it had anticipated and performance of Illustration 12 in the book of Calormene verse and illustrated erotica he and Morgan had studied intensely over the summer. And Jalur was grumpy because his nap had been interrupted as Edmund stormed out of the Library, even though Morgan had already left so there had been no audience at all for his terrific tantrum.

It had been an utterly rotten day with nothing going to plan. He'd been cooped up too much and it was time to go outside.

Stepping out of the Palace was, however, shocking. He hadn't realized it had rained that day and it was much cooler, not at all like the steamy late afternoon thunderstorms that rolled in during the Narnia summers. He could just make out tinny voices of the Squirrels fighting over and storing the seeds and cones the storm had knocked from the Trees.

_Oh._

_Illustration 12._  
_When it's cold and raining,_  
_you are more beautiful._  
_And the snow brings me_  
_even closer to your lips._  
_The inner secret, that which was never born,_  
_you are that freshness, and I am with you now._  
_I can't explain the goings,_  
_or the comings. You enter suddenly,_  
_and I am nowhere again._  
_Inside the majesty_.

 

"King Edmund?"

Jalur's nudge brought him back to the present. "I apologize, Jalur. I just realized. Summer is nearly over."

"It is."

And that meant Morgan's contract covering her stay in Narnia was expiring soon. A ship would come and she'd sail away. His imagination almost hijacked his body to stomp back up the stairs and attempt a cessation of hostilities, a negotiated settlement, and performance of Illustration 12. Edmund pulled his imagination back before it got him in even more trouble.

_What's going on?_

Edmund wandered around the grounds, down to the beach, back up to the stables, into the gardens and out, but he knew there was really only one destination and he was but delaying it.  Still, he dallied until he was sopping wet and Jalur was soggy, _very, very_ grumpy, and beginning to smell like moldy carpet. Eventually, he succumbed to the inevitability. There wasn't anyone else he would take this to except Thomas.

In another reminder, Edmund noted that the pond was less crowded; some of the Water Fowl had already migrated further south. Thomas, Henry, and Henrietta had had three Cygnets this year and they were gangly, awkward, flapping and hopping about, and were still a few weeks away from their full flight feathers. The whole family was grazing by the pond when Edmund squelched over to see them.

He had to endure Henry and Henrietta's scolding. "You're as wet as a Duck, your Majesty, and water runs off them, not you."

"It's a bit drier up the hill," Thomas said, and Edmund trudged after the waddling Goose to his "office."

"Jalur, please fall back . Try to not overhear."

The dripping Tiger was so angry he didn't even bother with a snide remark. 

Thomas squatted in his favorite rushes. Realizing he couldn't really be any wetter than he already was, Edmund sat next to him.

He began pulling up the grass, and mud with it, in his restless hands.

"Is there something you wish to discuss, your Majesty?"

"Uhmmm. Yes. No. Yes?"

_Yes._

"Have you met Banker Morgan yet?"

"The human female at the Palace?"

Edmund nodded. "She's been here since the spring. All summer."

"Yes, I did meet her. She came here to count Birds."

"Bankers count things, like money. She's been with me all summer, for the summer."

"So she has been at Cair Paravel all summer and with you all summer but only for the summer?"

"Yes.  I suppose I _am_ repeating myself. She's supposed to go back home to the Lone Islands in a few weeks. We've been, we are, lovers, too. But she's leaving soon."

"Banker Morgan was very interesting to talk to," Thomas said. "She asked me and Henry and Henrietta many questions. Of course, the Crows interrupted her constantly."

"They do that. It can get annoying. They like her hair."

"Oh? Yes, I did see that, actually. She mentioned she'd traveled with Queen Lucy?"

"Yes! And Captain Roblang. They went to get Jezebel the Beaver away from a Grove of Willow saplings."

"Jina told me Banker Morgan managed to get an Otter to remove Jezebel from her lodge."

"She did! The General herself flew Garbon there and now we must pay a ransom in oranges to the Otters! Morgan negotiated the whole deal."

"And she's been counting Narnians now rather than oranges or money?"

Thomas sounded a little mystified, so Edmund explained. "Well, she does counting, with money, too. We really don't know how many Narnians there are and where they live. It's dead useful for planning things like winter stores. It would have helped us with Jezebel if we'd known where other Beavers were."

"I see. Jezebel is at the Palace now?"

"Yes. It's gone better than expected. Morgan's found things for her to do that actually help Mrs. Furner, like organizing buttons and ribbons, polishing the plate, and prettying up the guest quarters. Morgan sent her off to the barn to learn how to dress long hair so now the horses' manes and tails are as pretty as a well-groomed lady.  She's learning to tie bows, too. Morgan lets Jezebel practice on her." He laughed. "Some of them are enormous and look very silly but Morgan says Jezebel won't get better if she can't practice."

"She is quite right, of course."

Edmund felt a little proud that even Thomas had heard about Morgan's exploits. So he wasn't ready for the mild question that made him feel defensive on her behalf.

"With all she's been doing this summer, are you feeling Banker Morgan has slighted you?"

"What?! No! It's a relief, actually. I don't have to entertain her constantly or account for her every doing. We do squabble a lot, but she really isn't taxing to me at all."

"That is very good to hear, your Majesty. Though, squabbling is unfortunate. Has that squabbling interfered with your duties?"

"No, not at all. Maybe even improved upon them.  I've made good progress on the Lone Island Tax Code. I've been so dutiful, Jalur has hardly complained about me at all. Well, except today, of course. I don't think I've endured more than two scoldings from Mrs. Furner. Cook's not punished me once with stewed intestine."

"Really? In the past, you've said that being in the company of one person for so long makes you irritable."

"Odd, isn't it? I'm sure the regular sex is helping. But even there, it's the strangest thing. Apart from Abnur, I've never had a lover last this long; it always gets monotonous, becomes more of a chore. Or, there's some huge fuss and crying. They flounce out in the middle of the night. Susan makes me apologize."

Thomas made a rude sound. The Goose could nag him almost as well as Jalur and Susan could

"It's all quite remarkable, unprecedented for me, really. I don't know what to make of it all."

"You don't?" Thomas began casually nibbling on the grasses and arched a wing over his back.

_Oh._

He picked up a pebble and rolled it down the knoll toward the Cygnets who began chasing it.

"I should have recognized what you were doing, Thomas. You've used this strategy on me before."

"Have I?"

_Damned Goose._

_Damned knowing Goose._

"I'm still not any wiser having gone through this exercise that makes me draw my own conclusions from your pointed, deliberate questioning."

"I disagree, your Majesty. You are wiser. You've recognized that you have been a better person with Banker Morgan and you've never experienced anything like this before or for so long."

Thomas paused. Even more thoughtfully he added, "I suppose I'm not really revealing a confidence when I say that your brother and sisters haven't had the experience you are having this summer, either."

"No." Edmund threw up his hands with disgust. "This is ridiculous. I'm the surly, moody smart lesser brother. This isn't supposed to happen to _me_. I have a reputation to maintain!"

"When you're used to everything being demanding, suspicious, and harsh, it's strange to feel content."

 _Content._ Even _happy_ , though he winced at the word. "If I were my normal self, this would be easy. When her ship comes, I'd just say, 'Good-bye, Morgan. Thanks for the sex and the accounting lessons! Lovely time. Ta-ta!'"

"But you don't want to do that."

His restless hands had become a muddy, grassy mess. He wiped them on his trousers, knowing he'd earn a scolding now and feeling uncomfortable about the inconvenience to Mrs. Furner and the launderers.

"I don't think so?"

 _Tash's hell._ Everything that summer had been better. He'd not re-written the Lone Island Tax Code, but he certainly understood it better. He'd drilled enough that Sir Most-Likely-To-Be-Murdered-By-His-Own-Army Leszi had only threatened once a week to carve him into tiny bits and feed him to fish. It had been enormously refreshing not being the subject of unwarranted criticism all the time. Morgan knew things about the wider world that he didn't and had taught him. He'd done a terrific Request For Proposal regarding a silver mine operation that Morgan had actually approved, with only nominal edits. She made no demands on him at all other than regular performance of Illustrations 3, 7 or 11 and he enjoyed that, particularly because he could usually extract reciprocal performance from her. He liked waking up next to her every morning. Morgan didn't snore.

And it would all end when she boarded a ship and returned to her own life, and mountains of money, in the Lone Islands.

"Thomas, what should I do?"

 "What should you do?" Thomas sounded absolutely exasperated and Edmund got a sharp bite on the ear. "What should you do?!"

Thomas flapped his wings so hard, Edmund had to duck to avoid getting smacked in the head. "King Edmund, it never ceases to astound me that you can be so ingenious about so many things and so dumb about personal matters. Surely you can see that you won't find out what happens next if Banker Morgan is not with you?"

"That's why I'm here!" Edmund shouted, raising his arms to try to avoid getting clouted in the face by mighty Goose wings. His ear was stinging from the bite. "I don't know what I should do!"

"BY THE LION AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ALL THE WORK HERE!? YOU ARE THE SMART ONE! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO YOU FOOLISH HUMAN IF YOU WANT TO BE WITH SOMEONE?!"

"Ask her to stay?"

"YES YOU INSUFFERABLE TWIT."  Edmund had to scramble away to avoid getting bitten or hit again. "Alright!" he shouted back at Thomas, who was still honking furiously. "I get it.  I'll ask!"

Henry and Henrietta flapped to his rescue and saved him from Thomas' furious assault. Jalur stayed under a tree and did nothing at all.

* * *

 Year 11

(After Queen Susan's triumphant return from the Lone Islands wherein she conquered the Bankers and captured the heart of the Director of the House of Linch)

Fooh made sure the High King knew he was not going to be with him for the afternoon. The High King promised to stay in the Training Yard so that he would be with all the soldiers from the Army that were drilling. He yelled at Beehn and told him not to take a nap. He made sure the General knew that he was leaving, and he told her specifically that the only reason he could was because he knew she would do such a good job protecting the High King in his brief absence. Fooh didn't think the General would do as a good a job as he himself would, but didn't tell her that; the General was very tough but also liked to hear compliments to her competence, just like anyone else. And he told Sir Leszi that he would personally return, scratch for scratch, any damage the Satyr inflicted upon the High King during drills.

Then he ran so fast to the pond, he couldn't ask for Thomas right away because he was so out of breath. A Heron told him that Thomas was teaching the Cygnets to swim. She was very polite and he was, of course, gracious in return. When he got away from that infernal Otter Romp that was Cair Paravel politics, it was nice to be acknowledged as the High King's Royal Guard.

Fooh walked slowly and respectfully to the swimming lesson. He didn't want to frighten the Cygnets into launching into the water and hurting themselves or inconveniencing Thomas, Henry, or Henrietta.

From a little ways away he called, "I'm sorry for interrupting, Thomas. May we speak please?" Because he decided this was Guard business, Fooh added, "I don't have much time and I sail with the High King and Queen Susan the day after tomorrow."

"Of course, young Fooh!" Thomas honked back, which immediately annoyed him.

Thomas began walking towards him but then had to scold the Cygnets to keep them from following. Fooh took one, tiny step forward and raised his head. That was enough to send the Cygnets squawking and crying back to Henry.

As they started walking up the knoll, Fooh whispered quietly, "Please don't call me, "young." Everyone here will copy it and I'm older then when Lambert and Briony became Guards."

He felt like maybe Thomas had really noticed him for the first time. "Quite right. My apologies." Louder he honked, "I'm always glad to see you, Fooh." It wasn't necessary but it was nice when so respected a Goose added, equally loudly, "I've heard the High King has been very pleased with your service."

Thomas settled on his rushes and Fooh found a place to sit that wouldn't muss or dirty his fur too much. He didn't want, ever, to contribute to a mess someone else had to clean up.

"How can I help?"

"The High King and Queen Susan are sailing to the Seven Isles to meet with Director Linch of the House of Linch. They are Narnia's bankers now and House Linch is working in the Lone Islands this summer for Narnia involving a new law about taxes."

"Yes, I have heard something about that." Thomas looked at him curiously. "You seem _very_ well-informed, Fooh."

"I pay attention. Jalur and Beehn always sleep through this, but I don't."

"I see.  So what brings you to me?"

"It's what's going to happen when we get to the Seven Isles. Queen Susan is hoping to mate with Director Linch." He paused. "Director isn't his first name. It's Rafe. Director is just what everyone calls him. I want to know what I should do."

"Fooh, you surely know I cannot reveal confidences. I won't discuss what our Kings and Queens, or anyone else might be doing with their mates."

He had anticipated this objection. "I _know_ you keep confidences, Thomas. I'm not asking for those. I already know the confidences because I'm right there and hear them. But I don't understand what they mean and I could do or say something that would embarrass Queen Susan or the High King, or make outsiders think Narnians are rude or stupid and then I _will be_ rude _and_ stupid."

"You do need to learn, Fooh."

Fooh snarled. Thomas had hit a _very_ sore spot.  "They've said that this trip is supposed to be _training_ for me and I'm supposed to see it as _an opportunity_." He knew he sounded bitter. He couldn't help it. "Lambert will be schooling and judging me."

"Lambert is very wise."

"Yes, I _know_ that. But Dalia is _his_ friend. My _mother's friend_. Not mine. He and Briony try to pull rank on me all the time. And I'm the High King's Guard and they shouldn't do that but I'm not going to ask the High King to make them respect me."

He could see Thomas start to open his beak but Fooh interrupted him. "And I know even asking that would just make it worse. You can't order them to respect me. I have to earn it. The less dependent I am on them, the sooner we'll work this out."

Fooh was out of breath but he was really glad to set it all out. He needed to understand what was going on and figured Thomas was the safest place to do that. Also, from the way everyone talked, Thomas was probably the best, too.

"Fooh, I have greatly underestimated you. Please put your questions to me and we'll see if I  can advise you."

He was so relieved, he had to take a moment to collect his wits. Fooh hadn't been sure that his arguments would work.

"They are saying publicly that the trip is about the new law and so the High King can meet the Director. Privately, that's not really it, or not all of it. Queen Susan is only going because she wants to mate with the Director. But she is very nervous, Thomas. The High King is reassuring her constantly. So is Lambert. I don't understand why."

"You must have some ideas. You've been listening."

"I do. They just don't make sense to me."

"Tell me. Let's see if I can help you understand."

"She thinks the Director won't like her."

Thomas bobbed his head and Fooh was worried that the Goose might bite him for saying something dumb.  He didn't, though. "Stop there, Fooh. Try to take that idea and make it sound mature, like what the High King or Queen Susan might say."

That was really good advice. He'd heard others mock Lambert for sounding just like Queen Susan but it was always with a bit of envy; everyone also admired how well-spoken he was.

"I think…"

"Yes?"

"I think Queen Susan is embarrassed. For some reason, she is worried because he is male.  She says that he'll think she is a shy maid? Those are her words. What does that mean?"

"That sounds to me as if she is concerned that she is unskilled or undesirable in some way and that the Director will be disappointed in her when she wishes to enjoy mating with him and for him to enjoy mating with her."

Fooh felt his tail lash and stopped it, though he was annoyed that it kept twitching. He should not be giving away his feelings like that and had to practice constantly. No _What The King Feels The Guard Reveals_ for him! All you had to do was look at Jalur to know what King Edmund was feeling.

"Thomas, I just don't see how that can be correct. The Queen Susan has mated before. She has mates now." Though… He thought again about when Lady Beryl had visited during the winter and what he heard Lambert say to Briony about Lady Sharra of Felse from Anvard. He minded his words, thought before he spoke and was pleased with the result. "However, the mates I am aware of are women, not men. So perhaps she is worried she is unskilled in mating with men and that it will reflect poorly on her?" _This was very complex._

Thomas waited so long to respond, Fooh wondered if he said something rude or stupid, again.

"Yes, Fooh, I believe you are quite correct."

He let tail twitch at the compliment. "Alright, good. I want to come back to that in a moment." He had heard Lord Abnur use that phrase once and liked it. "You also said she believes she is undesirable and my problem with that is that she's Queen of Narnia, and everyone says she's one of the most beautiful women in the Known Lands. Suitors badger her constantly. In some courts, Lambert never stops growling."

"Yes, Fooh, this is indeed what is known, this what you observe, these are truths, widely known and acknowledged. But…"

He perked his ears. This was why everyone came to Thomas.

"But this is not how Queen Susan _feels_ at this moment."

He considered it further and didn't mind his tail flicking now because he was thinking. "So, I should concentrate on how she feels. And how the Director feels, of course."

"Yes. And, always, you should encourage them to talk, openly and honestly, about those feelings."

"Talking openly would solve that other problem, too, about her feeling she is unskilled, wouldn't it? Unless she's too embarrassed, or if the Director is unkind."

"It would. My first advice always is that mates should talk to each other before coming to me. If they cannot have the conversation they need to have, or if, as you say, one is unkind to the other, they, perhaps, should not be mates."

"King Edmund and Banker Morgan talked a lot but never about feelings, their feelings, did they?"

He didn't expect Thomas to answer but Fooh knew he was right. "This explains a lot, Thomas. Thank you."

"You are welcome. You are asking excellent questions. It's not often someone makes me rethink my ways."

"Thomas, if you were going, instead of me, what would be the kinds of things you would say to Queen Susan?"

"Also an excellent question, Fooh.  I would advise her that she should value her own happiness and that duty should not stop her from pursuing it. That she is a Queen, and the world may await her leisure."

He would need to think about both of those. "Thank you, Thomas. This has been very helpful for me." He started to stand, but Thomas interrupted him.

"Fooh?"

"Yes?"

"Be mindful of the High King's feelings as well.  When he is not with his sister, he may become sad and your support would be helpful to him."

"Well, he really hates boats."

"It's more than that. Listen to him and remind him of all he has done for Narnia."

Fooh sat back down again to attend to what Thomas was saying. "This is about the fact that he doesn't have a consort and he hasn't given Narnia any heirs, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Fooh knew how the High King felt when he looked at the human toys he had hidden in a trunk in his office. He didn't think anyone else knew about that trunk. "It makes him very sad, Thomas. Dalia always tells him that he is perfect and could never fail Narnia but _he has_. Hearing nice things isn't going to change that."

"That is a harsh judgment, Fooh."

"I know. I would never tell him that. But when that mood happens, what do I say? Everything I can think of sounds dumb."

"If you think of something, please let me know, Fooh, for in all these years, I've not been able to help him, either."

"Well, I…"

 _Wait._ Fooh felt his tail lash. _Did Thomas just ask me for help? Why, yes, he did._ It made him sad to suddenly realize that even Thomas didn't have all the answers to the hardest of questions.

He drew himself up a little straighter. "I will, Thomas. When I get back, maybe we can talk more?"

"I would like that, Fooh. Good luck."

Fooh sprang up and bounded away down the knoll. He had a lot to do and if Sir Leszi had scratched the High King, he was going to feel a little pain for the indignity of it.

* * *

 

1945

He felt like an idiot… _No_ , Jack corrected himself savagely. That was the problem. He _was_ an idiot.

He wanted to ask Mrs. Pevensie how Lucy preferred her tea, but he'd seen her drink it enough that he knew and really wanted to do this himself. For her. _Just because._

He didn't need a reason and shouldn't expect anything out of it.

"As much milk as the cup will hold," Mrs. Pevensie said.

"I know." Pause. _Remember._ "Thank you. Might I have a little sugar?"

She took the bowl down from the cupboard and he stirred a tiny teaspoon in.

"I'll take this up now."

Jack walked the tea very, very carefully upstairs to Lucy and Susan's bedroom. Susan wasn't there of course; Peter and Edmund weren't home, either, and he'd spent a rotten night not sleeping in their empty bedroom.

Jack was a little worried about knocking on Lucy's door and holding the tea but he managed it.  Lucy might still refuse to talk to him.  _And that was her right_ , he told himself firmly.

"Lucy? It's me. I brought tea up for you."

There was a long, long, _really long_ silence.

He tried again.  "I wanted to talk with you just a little before I catch my train."

Her voice finally came through the door.  "Jack, I'm sorry but there's really nothing more to say."

_Bollocks this was hard._

"I know, Lucy. That's fine. I understand. But you don't want your tea to get cold and…"

 _Just say it_. It was mad. But they were all mad, just like in _Alice._

"I had a dream last night and a Goose named Thomas told me that I really should apologize to you before I leave."

Her heard a _clomp_ and thumping footsteps.  The door flew open. "WHAT?"

She was in her nightdress and looked like she'd cried a lot and slept even less than he had.

Jack handed her the tea cup.

"MOTHER!"

Mrs. Pevensie shouted back from downstairs.  "I had nothing to do with this, Lucy! It's not my fault!"

Lucy muttered something very rude under her breath and Jack had to grin. It was why he loved her. And why he was so grateful for maybe, _maybe_ getting a chance to make it right between them.

Lucy did at least take the cup. "You'd best come in, I suppose."

"Thank you."

Lucy shuffled to her own bed, pulled her feet up and cradled her tea cup.

Jack sat stiffly across from her on Susan's perfectly made bed.

"Tell me."

He took a deep breath. He could do this.

"I'm sorry. Really sorry. I was only thinking about me, not you, and I won't bother you about this again."

"That does sound like Thomas. It sounds more like him than you, in fact."

"Does it? He made me practice saying 'I'm sorry.' It's not something I'm used to doing."

She sighed and took a sip of her tea. Her eyes widened. She stared in her cup and then looked up, accusingly. "You brought up tea my mother made."

He shook his head. "When I thought about it, I knew how you liked. She did find the sugar for me."

"Also like Thomas. So, what happened?  Tell me about the dream."

He clasped his hands in front of him. Usually dreams were so vague and strange.

"So, after we fought last night, I was angry and went to the pub. When I came back, your Mum was in the kitchen and, well, nicer than I deserved. She got me some aspirin. I did complain to her, I'm embarrassed to say. I shouldn't have done that."

"And what did she tell you?"

"Nothing, really.  I told her that I didn't understand. I didn't figure how you could be a grieving widow, like what you said, and maybe you were lying but that didn't make sense and that you said you were too old for me, and that didn't make sense, either, since we're both the same age."

"And?"

"And your mum said I should trust you and that you would never lie to me. And if I wanted to understand, I should ask, really, really hard and see what happens."

"Ask who?"

He shrugged. "She didn't say but she did say that if I saw any cats or lions I should talk to them. Which I thought was just barmy, as you all would say, or I was drunker than I thought, until…"

"You dreamt of a big white Talking Goose with black splotches on his back feathers who gave you personal advice like a psychiatrist." 

He stared at her. It had felt real. It had seemed real. It all made perfect sense that he had been sitting by a pond and a big Goose named Thomas introduced himself. It felt so real he was surprised when he woke up to find that his pants – trousers – weren't wet from sitting in the grass.

"Looks like you could use another drink, Jack."

"Or maybe never one ever again."

She smiled and it was the most amazing thing, like it always was. He was the luckiest bloke in the world to know Lucy Pevensie and wrecking what they had would be the biggest mistake of his life.

"So what did Thomas say?"

As if it was perfectly normal to have a long conversation with a Goose the size of a sheep. 

"Thomas asked me a lot of questions and the more he asked, about me, about you, about why I liked you and what I was hoping for, the more it all…"

He could feel the colour rise in his cheeks. It was shameful, but that was part of it. A _big_ part of it. It was long past the time to own up to it.

"I realized what a selfish git I've been. I've not listened to you. You've been trying to tell me, for a while now, that how you feel isn't how I feel and I've just not paid enough attention. I'm sorry. And…"

It wasn't his place to ask for anything. He could almost feel Thomas biting his ear and telling him. _Stop there._

"That's all. I'm really sorry. I won't do it again."

He pulled himself off the bed. He desperately wanted to say more. Wanted to know how the hell Lucy and apparently her mum had known about a Talking Goose named Thomas. He wanted to see if maybe she could give him a chance. Maybe they could kiss and she could walk him to the train and they'd hold hands and he'd get badly misspelt letters from her every week he was at Harvard. But this wasn't about him, or well, it was about him doing the right thing by her and it was damned hard but he had to make a start of it or … well, he wasn't ready to think about a life without Lucy in it but that was just the way it had to be.

"Oh, sit back down, Jack.  Don't go slinking off like that."

He eased back down on to Susan's bed and she offered her teacup. He shook his head. "Anything else happen?"

He turned his head so she could inspect his ear. "Thomas bit me twice when I was being especially thick-skulled. Are there any marks? I swear it still hurts."

She leaned forward and inspected the side of his head. "No."

Lucy pulled back, biting her lip, maybe stalling a little, and now that he was paying attention, Jack could see this was very hard for her.  The dream was just very odd for him.  It meant something more to her.

"Is there anything else you want to know?"

"Was it just Thomas in your dream?"

"No, but he was the only who spoke.  There were two big black swans in the pond. And I saw a man, he was really tall and had blonde hair and seemed, nice, I suppose, and he was with a huge gray and white wolf. But he didn't try to eat the birds."

"She," Lucy said, in a quiet, small, sad voice. "The Wolf was, is, a female. I hear them. Less than I used to. I've never seen them, as you have; not for a long, long time."

"I…" he stopped and didn't say _I don't understand._ His lack of understanding wasn't important now when she was hurting so much. 

"I'm sorry, Lucy. Whoever they are, they obviously think you're so wonderful that they barged into my dream to make sure I knew it, too, and treated you the way you deserve. And again, I'm really sorry. I need to grow up more.  And that's on me, not you."  Thomas had been _painfully clear_ on the notion of responsibility.  "You need time to figure out what you want, who you want, without me badgering you. Maybe I will be that person. Maybe not.  But that doesn't matter because I have a lot of work to do in the meantime."

She put her teacup on the table and patted the side of her bed.

"Lucy, you don't have to..."

"It's alright. You can still sit next to me."

He stiffly got up and cautiously stepped across and very, very carefully sat next to her, not too close.

She took his hand, then gently squeezed it. He froze as she ever so slowly laced her fingers in his, like she was testing something. He was holding his breath as Lucy kissed his cheek.

"Thank you. For saying what you did and for meaning it."

He wanted more. He wanted to pull her close and try kissing like in the movies. Maybe her mum would come in and throw him out and he could sneak Lucy out her window, not that she really needed his help there given the way Lucy climbed trees. He wanted to take everything she'd give and hold on to it and hope for the best. Instead, he withdrew his fingers and inched away from her.

"Was that all?" Lucy asked.

"Uhmmm. Not exactly?" He could feel the heat already rising in his cheeks, again.

"Oh?"

"It's very rude, Lucy.  I shouldn't tell you."

"Jack…" She had that thrilling, threatening glint in her eye. Usually she had a jackknife too.

"It was something Thomas asked me about."

She put both hands over her mouth and giggled. "Oh Jack, you're colouring up like a beet. Did Thomas scold you something awful?"

"This was nothing to the scolding, Lucy. Thomas wanted to know…" He had to lean closer to her to whisper. "He asked if males really didn't mate with other males in our world."

 _Lucy giggled._ "He asked about women, too, didn't he?"

How could she laugh?!  It had been _horrifying._

"I told him that it was illegal so that meant somebody must be doing it but I had no idea and it wasn't my business." 

And boy was it ever not his business what other people did in their bedrooms, _especially_ given what his week had been like.

"Oh, I bet Thomas didn't like that."

Jack rubbed his ear. "He bit me again he was so annoyed, as if it were my fault! He said it was the most unnatural thing he'd ever heard of and…"

Thomas had said a lot more than that about the "Kings and Queens" and he had no idea what the Goose was talking about.

Goose. Talking.  A Talking Goose talking about _sex._

Lucy was _laughing._

"You're making fun of me, Lucy. Really, it was so embarrassing."

"Oh poor, Jack. How utterly mortifying." She leaned closer and whispered, "I'd be careful saying what you know of the behavior in our whole world when you don't know what it all contains.  I have it on very good authority that Thomas is right about this."

His mouth dropped straight open. "Lucy! No! That's just not…"

And he had to stop _again._ Thomas had said that Lucy was very wise and that after he said he was sorry, if he ever hoped to get to have any future with her, or anyone else, he had to start listening to her.

"I don't understand any of this right now but, maybe, some day, you can tell me more."

She looked shocked.  "You aren't going to argue with me?"

"About something a Talking Goose said in my dream about things he thinks people do?"  _And that you seem to know more about that I do?_   "No."

She smiled again and looked genuinely happier.  "You were never a slow learner, Jack."  She gave him shove. "Scoot. I'm going to get dressed and I'll walk you to your train."

"You don't have to do that, Lucy."

"I know. But I won't see you for a long time and I want to."

He stood up, really happy he could still tease her a little. "Well, in that case…"

"What?" she demanded.

"If you walk me to the train, maybe I'll even tell you about what happened three nights ago."

"Must I fetch my pocketknife and extort it from you?"   

"No!  I went out, I had too much rum with Eustace, and I vomited on my dad's shoes.   Somehow that ended up with Ruby and my dad, uhmmm…"  He knew he was blushing again.

"No!" Lucy's eyes got really, really big. "Together?!"

"Not _just_ together."  He pointed.

She gasped.  " _In a bed_?"

There was a surprised squeak sound that came from the grate in the bedroom, almost like a mouse.

"MOTHER! YOU'RE EAVESDROPPING AGAIN!"

There was a long, long pause. And then Jack heard Mrs. Pevensie's voice come through the grate, "Maybe we can both walk Jack to the train?"

* * *

Poetry in the Edmund year 10 from _The Freshness,_ Soul of Rumi, translated by Coleman Banks


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